Love and Other Bruises
by AshlynnCoy
Summary: A missing scene from Star Wars comics immediately following the events of "Last Flight of the Harbinger". Han and Leia back aboard the Millennium Falcon having a moment of understanding as they deal with what damage was done while accomplishing their mission. Leia is dealing with a physical bruise and Han is trying to avoid an emotional one.


Han Solo had made a habit of keeping the _Millennium Falcon_ a little extra warm when the princess was aboard. Although she'd never admit it to him, she got cold easily. It made her hands ache, and it made her generally uncomfortable. And although he'd never admit it to her, he cared a fair sight more about her comfort than his own. So he'd quietly adjusted the environmental controls, she'd been able to take her gloves off on occasion, and neither of them ever mentioned it.

A few trips with the elevated thermostat, and Han had discovered it was best to change out of his jacket at his earliest convenience or else risk finding himself uncomfortably warm at an inopportune moment. He'd only just gotten the ship to hyperspace when he excused himself from the cockpit to put his jacket in the bunkroom and maybe snag a cup of tea while he had the chance.

Leia had disappeared the moment they'd come on board. She was mad at him—likely for myriad reasons, but mostly (he was sure) for the stunt he'd just pulled that had saved her life. It was confusing as hell that she'd be so mad at him for taking risks that kept her from harm. But then again, what else was new…? She'd keep to herself in her makeshift cabin until they arrived back at Yavin, and eventually this tiff would blow over.

Like their squabbles always did.

He ducked through the bunkroom door, tossing his jacket onto his bunk as he did. As he turned to go, he was startled to find he had company. Leia was not in her cabin. She was in his quarters, standing in the door to the 'fresher. Her coat was on his bunk, too, a fact he hadn't taken notice of at first. She stood straddling the threshold between the bunkroom and the 'fresher, with the top half of her flight suit hanging around her waist. She was holding up the tail of her undershirt with one hand and applying some sort of ointment with the other onto a spot on her back she could only see reflected in the little mirror above the 'fresher sink.

"Could you knock?" she snapped when she caught sight of him. Her eyes were wide; it was clear to Han she was more surprised to see him here than he had been to see her.

"It's my bunkroom on my ship," Han reminded her. Why the hell should he knock on his own damned door?

"Right," Leia said back, "Sure." She sighed in obvious annoyance and went back to what she was doing.

"What is that?" he asked, gesturing to the angry place she was trying to slather with salve.

"It's a bruise."

"Yeah, I can see that," he said. "What the hell happened to you?" Han took a step to his left to get a better look at the bruise without using the mirror. It was pretty obvious she wouldn't be able to reach the whole thing. "Here," he offered, extending his hand in the direction of the pot of ointment, "do you want me to…?"

"No. I do not," she declared gruffly, "And you know very well what happened."

"No I don't," he said. "That looks bad, how did…" Leia was looking at him with her expectant frown—the one that told him he was missing something entirely obvious. And then it hit him. Somehow his brain connected the dots. Han felt a heavy pit fall into his stomach as he asked, "Wait. Is that… Did I?"

"Run me down with a speeder bike? Yes. That's exactly what you did." She wasn't looking at him, Han could only guess at what her expression was in that moment, and he had to admit to himself he was glad for that. He didn't think he could take the look on her face when she was reminding him he'd hurt her.

"Aw, jheez, Leia," he said back. "Stang! I'm sorry, I didn't know I hit ya. I mean… I didn't mean to. I was just tryin' to get by ya. I was just…" He hadn't meant it. He would never have hit her on purpose—not with a speeder bike—not at all.

"I know," she said, still working the ointment over the inflamed area on her back. "We were both acting like idiots." She shook her head after a moment and turned to face him. "Ugh." She was frowning as she picked up the pot of medicine and held it out in his direction. "I can't reach," she admitted—a conclusion Han had known she'd eventually come to. "Could you?"

"Sure, yeah. It's the least I can do." Han gestured for her to turn so he'd have an easier time as he took the medicine from her hand. This thing was ugly. Black and blue and purple and red, it was swollen and misshapen, and warm with fever. "Dammit Leia, I'm sorry. I didn't think…"

Leia squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the discomfort of having such a tender place handled by another person. But as he began his ministrations, it surprised her how gently Han was able to smooth the ointment over the bruise. She wouldn't have guessed him capable of a touch so light. She took a deep breath and relaxed a little.

"No you didn't," she agreed, "You didn't think. And neither did I. The whole thing could have been avoided if I'd just said, 'you need me to command the ship because I need you to fly it'."

"We do work pretty well together when we can manage to agree on things." Han finished spreading the medicine over the areas she'd been unable to reach and turned to set the ointment on the side of the 'fresher sink. "There. All done."

"Thanks," she said, "And you're right. We should work on that. When you and I are pointed in the same direction—instead of at each other—we do tend to get things done." Leia adjusted her camisole back into place and turned around to face Han as she pulled her flight suit back up over her shoulders. He looked stricken. All the color was gone from his face and he was wringing his ointment-soaked hands together. "Are you all right?" she asked. Han shook his head.

"It's just—I ain't the kind of guy who goes around leavin' bruises on women." His voice broke as he said that. It was the kind of presumption women like her made about men like him all the time. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him that Leia understand he wasn't the stereotype of a woman-beating, hard-drinking, dishonest, amoral smuggler, but he felt that need in his bones. Something in him just couldn't stand the thought she might see him that way.

Leia wasn't sure she'd ever seen her usually-cocksure friend this close to overcome. But she knew she didn't like it. She shook her head as she threaded her arms back into her sleeves.

"I know what kind of man you are," she said softly, rising up onto tip toe to kiss his cheek. It touched her that he cared so much about her impression of him—that he wanted to be sure she didn't think he was the kind of brutish brawler who went around beating up people half his size. He looked even more uncomfortable in the wake of the kiss than he had a moment before; it appeared her gesture had backfired. "I know you," she assured him gently.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose, Leia."

"I know. It was an accident," she said. "You got carried away. We both did."

"Yeah."

"And technically, I started it."

"You did kick me," he allowed. "But that's still no excuse. A guy doesn't get to mow down a lady just because she laid into his shin with the heel of her boot."

"I apologize for that," Leia said, doing her best to disarm him with a smile and a reminder of the hijinks that had caused the whole unpleasant episode. She had a smirk on her face and enough teasing in her tone that she was hoping it would lighten his mood a little.

"No harm, no foul, princess. I don't think you left a mark—and if ya did, I'm sure it's got nothin' on that one." He still sounded serious. Leia shrugged.

"Yeah, it's pretty gnarly. It probably looks worse than it feels." Maybe letting him know it wasn't all that painful would help…?

"I'm so sorry," was all he managed to say back.

Leia felt lost. She'd never seen him like this. She wondered why this, of all things, was bothering him so. What sort of trauma did he have in his past that made him worry this deeply about her impression of him where it came to violence and women?

"Han," she said, stepping forward and taking hold of him by his forearms, "I forgive you. It's a bruise. It was an accident. I'm all right. I know you'd never hurt me on purpose. I've seen what you do to _other people_ who try to hurt me. I know I'm safe with you," she assured him. "I'm fine. We're fine."

"Okay," he said back, but Leia could tell he hadn't gotten to the point of forgiving himself—her assertion that they were fine may have been premature.

"We stole a Star Destroyer," she reminded him, smiling wider, trying to get him out of this funk.

"Yeah we did."

"So did you ride that speeder bike all the way to the bridge?" she asked, her tone light and her eyes narrowed. Maybe spending a minute re-living the remarkable victory they'd just scored together would help his mood.

"Only across the deck we were on," he replied. "It didn't fit in the lift. And you'd have beaten me anyway."

"I took a short cut."

Han chuffed at that. She'd put on an EV suit and gotten to the bridge via the exterior of the ship. 'short cut' was not exactly how he'd have put it.

"You're somethin' else," he declared, smiling down at her finally. He seemed to be relaxing; that was good. Leia squeezed his arms.

"You're pretty foxy yourself," she said. "You took to those controls like you'd been there all your life."

"I'm a pilot," he said with an impish shrug of his shoulders, "I fly stuff."

"You're pretty good with spacecraft," she allowed, "But your speeder bike skills could use a bit of improvement."

"Aw, dammit, Leia, I'm so sorry, I…"

"I'm kidding!" she cried. She hadn't meant to poke at the sore spot so quickly. But this was Han, this was _her and Han_. This was what they did. They needled each other and snarked at each other—that's just what their relationship was like. That was what it meant to relate to him normally, and she didn't want that to change—now or ever.. "I'm messing with you!" she reminded him. "Like we always mess with each other. You're supposed to come back and tell me I cheated, or challenge me to a speeder bike race when we get back home."

Han managed to fake half a smile. She was trying. And he was convinced she hadn't formed the wrong opinion of him. Still, he was having a hard time forgiving himself for hurting her like that. She'd had enough hurt in her life without his piling on.

"I just can't believe I…."

"Forget about it," Leia insisted. "Please. I'm not injured, and I'm not angry. Truth be told: as ridiculous as the whole thing was, I… I had fun."

"Yeah, me too," he admitted. "And you did kind of cheat." He shrugged his shoulders. If she was ready for their normal banter to resume, he would take that cue gladly.

"There's that cocky Corellian I know and love."

"You love me?" Han was smiling earnestly again, and he cocked his eyebrow in the way that told Leia he thought he had the upper hand for the moment. Those were not words he'd expected to hear, but she'd started the teasing this time. She'd more than started it, she'd _insisted on_ it. And that meant she was ready for whatever he sent her way in response to her (likely unintended) confession.

Leia rolled her eyes as she let out an exasperated sigh.

"I walked right into that."

"Yes ma'am, you did. But don't worry, sweetheart," he added with a wink, "I'll keep it between us for now. Our secret. It wouldn't do for the guys back on base to get wind of this, you know…?"

Leia threw her head back in exasperated laughter. He was being obnoxious, but at least that meant things were normalizing. His mood seemed to have turned completely. Whatever it was she had said or done, Han was back now, full force and ready to tease her mercilessly for that moment of lapsed judgment. She'd think twice before letting her guard down like that in the future.

"I don't know why I put up with you," she grumbled.

"Because you love me," he quipped. "You just said it."

"Will you get out of here?" she asked, making a shooing motion with her hands. "Go! Fly the ship. Make some tea. Something."

"I'll make you a cup of tea," he replied, turning to go, "but only because you love me." Leia rolled her eyes again as Han practically sashayed out the door to the bunkroom.

"I take it back!" she called after him.

"I can't heeeear you!" Han hollered back down the corridor to her.

Leia closed her eyes and shook her head before turning her attention to fastening the front of her flight suit.

She was either going to murder that man or marry him.

But for the time being, she was going to make him brew her some tea. Because she loved him… or something.

Whatever it was that had just happened, whatever it was stirring between them, and whatever confusion she may have been feeling about those words she'd just let slip and what exactly they meant, she had to admit that her relationship with Han Solo was different than any other she'd ever experienced.

In defiance of all her shields and walls, he'd certainly left a mark on her.


End file.
